


Drunken Sex

by LuckyLecky



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drunken sex, M/M, No real timeline, Sciles, Scott is not drunk, well Stiles is drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1296679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyLecky/pseuds/LuckyLecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A night drinking in the woods leads to something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunken Sex

**Author's Note:**

> A friend wanted some Sciles smut. So I wrote some. There's no particular time that this is set in though I wrote it at the beginning of 3a. Sorry for the title. I honestly have no idea what to name it.

Stiles was a handful. He talked too much and his hands had a mind of their own. That didn't change when he was drunk. Drunk Stiles spoke even more-although he didn't always make sense-and couldn't keep his hands off of whatever was in front of him. Even if it was his best friend. Of course it was because of Stiles' big mouth and flailing hands that led to this, limbs tangled, mouths pressed against hot skin with sloppy open kisses, hands removing clothing with quick awkward tugs.

Leaves, grass, and other foliage shifted and rustled beneath the two bodies, Scott groaning on his back and not even caring when he felt a particularly sharp stick poking into his back. The two rutted against each other fast and hard, both wanting more and more friction as they ground against one another. In this condition, Scott knew Stiles wouldn't last long. Hell, he probably wasn't going to last much longer. Werewolf stamina be damned, he was still a teenage boy and he'd wanted this for so long.

It took some will power and werewolf strength but he managed to get Stiles off of him long enough so he could roll onto his stomach and shoved his boxers down so they fell below his ass. He heard his friend's sharp intake of breath and the overwhelming spike in his arousal.

"Scott?" Stiles gulped, his voice strangled. His heart beat erratically in his chest and Scott could feel the hungry gaze locked on his ass. The thought alone that Stiles was eyeing him like that had him twitching between his legs. Stiles wanted him, no matter the surprise and unease that'd leaked into his voice.

Instead of replying, he took two fingers into his mouth. The groan he heard from Stiles told him he saw what he'd done. Once his fingers were wet and nearly dripping with saliva, he shifted his weight onto his other arm and moved his hand between his legs.

The choked, almost pained noise Stiles made encouraged Scott to continue on with his preparation. He turned his head and watched the way Stiles' hand hovered by the waistband of his boxers, obviously conflicted as to what to do in this situation. Scott made sure to lock eyes with his friend as he slipped in a third finger and let out a long moan.

That broke him. Stiles pushed his own boxers down and took himself in hand, his pace immediately fast and desperate. Scott took this as his cue to get on with it. He removed his fingers and moved onto his hands and knees. He cast a look back at Stiles, trying to tell him what he wanted without speaking.

Scott knew they were on the same page when Stiles' hands moved to his hips and a moment later his ass was filled and burning with the intrusion. His rolled his hips back, head hanging down, and lips parted in a gasp.

Sites did his best to not lose himself. He tried to keep himself under control enough to not hurt Scott but with every thrust he found himself moving faster and harder with less and less thought. Later, he'd blame the alcohol or that this was one of his first real sexual encounters with another person or the fact that Scott's ass was just fucking perfect.

Scott knew his friend's mind was clouded by the alcohol and that if they'd been doing this when Stiles was sober things would be different. It would be gentle and slow and Stiles would most likely be freaking out about now. But Scott didn't need gentle and slow right now. He didn't want to have to assure the other male that he was okay and doing fine. What he needed was rough and sloppy and painful. He just needed to feel Stiles, to feel how human and how real he was. So many things had been going wrong. There were too many problems of the supernatural kind and not enough everyday teenager ones. He just needed the reminder that he had his best friend, one of the few constants in his life. Stiles helped him remember what humanity was. He needed his best friend for that.

This simple act of raging teenage hormones, both moaning and moving their hips in hopes of completion, this was what he needed. It wasn't nice. It was without finesse. Stiles' thrusts were without any real rhythm, his hands clenching his hips in a bruising grip.

It was sloppy and over all too soon for the both of them, but laying there together, panting hot breath into the night air, both a mess with different debris from the woods sticking to them, grinning like absolute idiots, Scott couldn't help but think it was perfect.


End file.
